


Bajoran Holiday

by Ithildin



Series: Blood Ties [28]
Category: Highlander: The Series, Star Trek
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Romantic Getaway, wanted dead or alive - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-04
Updated: 2006-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3286568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithildin/pseuds/Ithildin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aiding the resistance, a few bombing runs, evading the occupation. What? Not your idea of a romantic getaway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bajoran Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> This one is from 2006, written for the OC Challenge.

"Shhh -- don't look," he whispered. Methos pressed her farther into the shelter of the doorframe, gathering her close.

Triona shivered in the damp night air, her heart racing as the tension mounted; clenching her fingers against his shoulders as she tried to do as he said and not look. The feeling of danger -- of being trapped -- crawled up her spine. It would be dawn soon and they were no closer to escape than they had been when the night had been young.

As the sound of booted feet grew closer, Methos began to nuzzle her throat, his hands roaming her body; the perfect picture of a man only concerned with the needs of the flesh. But she could feel the anxiety in those hands; feel the tautness of his body against hers. They were so close. ‘Please let them pass us by,’ she prayed silently as she steeled herself, preparing to fight if the need arose.

For a moment, she thought they might be home free; then the feet stopped. Methos squeezed her arm in warning and reassurance. "The hour is late and the night foul," a gruff voice said. "What is your business?"

"Pleasure, Constable. Pleasure." He moved his hand deliberately up her thigh. "It's hard for a man these days to get any privacy -- if you know what I mean," he said conspiratorially.

The other man snorted. "I do indeed, citizen. And I must admit, that if I had your good fortune I'd risk the night as well." Triona could hear the leer in his voice. She only hoped he didn't expect Methos to share his good fortune. "Just take care. The city is full of malcontents who would break the peace." Triona held her breath as the soldier paused. "Enjoy your pleasure." She let her breath out silently.

"I will, Constable. Have no doubt."

The soldier chuckled. "I haven't a one! Come along, men! At the least we can be glad that someone this night is in the arms of a woman."

As the sound of marching feet moved away, she sagged against him in relief. Taking her face in his hands he kissed her hard, his fingers tangling in her hair.

"That was too close," she said a little breathlessly as their lips parted.

"It wouldn't be if someone's picture wasn't on wanted posters all over the city!" he said with exasperated fondness.

"Like it's my fault!"

Methos just shook his head. "We'll discuss it later. For now, we need to get you to shelter and then out of this godforsaken city."

"I'd prefer to get off the planet entirely," she said as they made their way down the almost deserted street.

"That's the idea. But we need to make contact with the resistance first. Thanks to your latest bit of drama the Cardassians have doubled all the security points out of the city -- not to mention off Bajor."

"It was an opportunity we needed to take!" she hissed, miffed at the tone of censure in his voice.

He pulled her closer to his side. "You were supposed to be reassuring the Bajorans of our continued support. *Not* leading bombing raids on Cardassian munitions depots!"

She bit back her response as they slowed, approaching what appeared to be a storage facility. Methos tapped in a code on the security panel, and the door whooshed open. They entered slowly, hands held in front of them to show they were friends. As the door closed silently behind them, Triona spoke a word into the darkness, "Iona."

A dim light suddenly appeared in the darkness. "Thank the Prophets! We feared you'd been captured!"

"No. Just delayed," Methos told the Bajoran, shooting Triona a look.

"We're glad you made it." The man moved closer to the two, holding up a lantern. "You've done more to increase the moral of the resistance with your actions here than anything we could have hoped for," he said earnestly.

Triona flashed Methos a look of triumph before responding. "I'm glad we could be of aid."

“Please, follow me. You must be tired and hungry.” Nodding, the two Immortals followed him down the dark corridor.

“Next time you want to take a trip off planet, I’m making the travel arrangements,” he told her, sounding more than a little aggravated.

Swallowing her laughter, knowing that Methos really wasn’t all too pleased with her right now, she asked, “Not your idea of a romantic getaway, dearest?”

“As a matter of fact, no!”

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she grinned. “To each his own.”

Shaking his head in exasperation, he put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a little shake. “There are times…”

“When you could kill me?” she finished helpfully.

“Amongst other things.” Exhaling sharply, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “And you, my recalcitrant wife, are going to find out what each and every one of them are when you make this up to me.”

End


End file.
